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Fire Bolt
Lancen skidded behind the pillar, another jolt of lightning striking the wall where he stood only moments ago, a branching streak of electricity connecting with his body as he had scrambled away from the eldritch mage's attack. Though not as deadly as the full force of the bolt, it still stung like a maticore's sting, leaving Lancen momentarily wracked with pain, his muscles in his arm convulsing until he drew his finger together into a fist to regain control of the spasming digits. The mage cackled from behind the pillar, he knew that Lancen's training was incomplete, not yet ascended to the ranks of the great wizards of Telinor, they had sent a child to do the work of a master. Lancen took a deep breath and rose up, steadying himself against the crumbling pillar. He reached into is pocket and found the small iron bearing, the stench of sulphur that accompanied it assaulted his nostrils as he raised it to his face, the near soundless words slipping from his lips to the metal ball. His hands moved instinctively in practices forms; the Blade-the Sun-the Flame-the Formed, all represented by fingers extending or retracting as his mouth spoke in tune with them, the final words being accompanied by his hand cupping over the iron ball. He could feel its heat, feel its desire to lash out. It was energy incarnate, his will to strike the abomination of a mage down from his twisted throne of corpses. '' "''What will you do now, boy?!" shouted the corrupted mage from atop his raised throne made from the many victims he had taken in the night, "You are bested admit it!" Lancen inhaled deeply, ducking his head to the left to bring him into a roll, his hands still firmly clasped around the ball of fire. The eldritch mage raised his hands to deliver another bolt of lightning, the aged man's fingers already adopting the twin horned pose of the Fork crackling with energy ready to strike as Lancen completed his short tumble to land in front of the pillar that had been his only protection from the mage. Lancen hurled the bolt outward, his two hands pushing from his chest, a bolt of molten fire streaking across the throne room towards the mage, who's face twisted in surprise... School '''evocation fire '''Level '''Sorcerer/Wizard 2, Witch 2, Adept 2, Magus 2 '''Casting Time '''1 standard action '''Components '''V, S, M (an iron ball bearing and sulphur) '''Range '''120 ft. '''Area '''120-ft. line '''Duration '''instantaneous '''Saving Throw Reflex partial; see text Spell Resistance yes From your fingertips shoots a small ball of fire that travels in a straight line dealing 1d6 points of fire damage per caster level (maximum 5d6) to the first creature or object it hits. If the first creature in the line passes its Reflex save against the attack the bolt continues along its path threatening to hit the next creature or object in its way until it reaches 120 ft. and dissapates. The bolt sets fire to combustibles and damages objects that it collides with. If damage caused to an interposing barrier shatters or breaks through it the bolt will not continue beyond the barrier even if the spell's range permits. Category:Spells Category:Homerules Category:Magic